


blue eyes, black jeans, lighters, candy

by delsicle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Choking, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Harry Styles Live On Tour, Light Angst, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Riding, Rough Sex, Spanking, degradation kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-19 00:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delsicle/pseuds/delsicle
Summary: Harry is in Madrid and Louis had a hard week.(a Tumblr repost)





	blue eyes, black jeans, lighters, candy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of a drabble I wrote on Tumblr a few months back, inspired by the tour picture Harry posted from Madrid: https://www.instagram.com/p/BhCHe4Aj2Jy/?hl=en&taken-by=harrystyles
> 
> It's pure filth, make sure you've read the tags ahead of time. Love you all xx
> 
> PS Sorry this isn't a new twins chapter -- I've been meaning to post this drabble on ao3 for awhile and I didn't want to wait until after the next chapter of FIO was done before I posted this!

“I hate tour.”

Louis’s eyes were closed, and he tilted his head and pressed his wine glass to the side of his face, even though the glass had long gone warm and no longer bringing any relief to his burning skin.

“You do not,” Harry’s voice said from across the room, and Louis split his eyes open enough to look at him.

He felt fucking good. He had had third-fourths of a bottle of red wine and he and Harry had shared a spliff until it burned down; the dressing room was hot and smelled like burnt down candles and weed and Harry’s cologne.

“Fine,” Louis said, “I like touring _with_ you. But I hate tagging along to your tour. I feel like a groupie.”

“You like it,” Harry smiled. He had long taken off his jacket, leaving just the low dip of his white vest and his sweat-dusted chest. His cheeks were flushed, but his eyes were still firm, his mouth a firm, plump line of sweet, wine-stained pink, punctuated with the promise of a smirk.

“Fine,” Louis said, “But I won’t let you sign my tits. That’s a red fucking line.”

Louis watched Harry lift a hand as he laughed, running it through his curls. So long, so soft, fluffy with humidity. His rings sparkled amongst the dark waves, even in the low light.

Louis bought him those rings. Bought them and put them on and kissed each of Harry’s knuckles while he was on his knees in front of him, his eyes flicked up.

“Are you kneeling for me or proposing to me?” Harry had asked the last time Louis had bought him a new ring and done that. He had probably been drunk, or high, exactly like they were now. Louis had probably said “both” with no breath, his breath rough from smoke.

“Louis.”

Louis blinked once, and Harry’s lips seemed to move out of time with the one word, his mouth forming the “ee” too late after Louis had heard the last part of his name.

“Yeah,” Louis had blankly, rolling his glass over his face, pressing it to his lips.

“C’mere,” Harry said, sitting up a little bit. The silver chain around his neck shifted, the muscles in his shoulders rolling with his movement.

Louis just blinked at him and smiled, closing his lips around the rim of his glass. There was one last trickle of wine left, and he tipped the glass back, nearly licking the inside of the glass to get to it all.

“I’m tired.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry said, and Louis just gazed back at him.

“Yes, I am.”

“I can see your hard on through your jeans,” Harry said, “I could nearly see from the stage.”

“I’m still tired.”

“Okay, sure,” Harry said, “You’re wearing my favorite jeans, by the way.”

That, at least, made Louis smile. Because of course he already knew that. These were his best jeans. His fuck me jeans. He wore them because he knew Harry got very handsy after a performance high, and even more so when he could get a nice view of Louis’s arse immediately afterward.

He had worn them a couple months back, to one of Harry’s final rehearsals, and he had sauntered his way into that studio and had the satisfaction of seeing Harry’s face freeze as Louis just smiled at him from the other side of the booth, taking off his jacket so Harry could see the high, tight waist.

They’d fucked three different ways on the couch, Louis had come all over Harry’s Gucci promotion freebie of the week, and they’d driven home together to order in too much take away and dig up something god awful from their DVR. That had been a fantastic night.

“I know,” Louis finally said.

“I know you do, you fucking brat,” Harry sighed, “Come here, honey.”

Louis considered just saying no, just to see if he could push this further, but fuck, Harry really did look good, so he swallowed down the dryness in his throat and stood up.

Harry leaned back in his chair, his arms draping over the arm rests and his legs lazily opening as he looked at Louis. At some point, Louis had pulled up the long end of his shirt and tied it into a knot above the button of his jeans, a flash of his middle visible between the two. He just watched Harry’s eyes rake over him, his eyes wide and softened with booze, and Louis sighed and lifted his arms up, letting his shirt ride higher.

“I’d ask if you saw something you liked,” he said, “But you’re very obvious.”

Harry sighed and shook his head.

“I’ve missed you.”

“You missed my ass.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Louis, stop it.”

“What? You don’t want to see it?” Louis asked. He kept his arms lifted, his fingers tangled in his hair, and he turned around, arching his back until he felt the denim stretch tightly along his backside and his shirt ride up in the back.

Harry was silent, and then exhaled tightly.

“Louis,” he said again, his voice firming, “Turn around.”

Louis rolled his eyes and did, his vision blurring for a second with how quickly he turned. He blinked and tilted his head, and then fiddled with the edge of his shirt, smiling.

“What?”

“You’re not going to get a spanking that easily.”

Louis blinked.

“Who said I wanted a spanking?”

“You only act like this when that’s what you’re after,” Harry said simply.

Louis licked his lips.

“Act like what?”

Harry set his mouth.

“Like a fucking brat.”

Louis just stared at him, still playing with the edge of his t-shirt. He’d only owned it for a night but he fully intended it to wear for a good week afterwards. It already reeked of Harry’s dressing room and that’s all he wanted to smell for awhile.

“I can’t believe you picked yellow for the latest round of shirts,” Louis huffed, “I fucking hate yellow.”

“You look gorgeous in yellow. Don’t change the subject,” Harry said.

Louis paused, then swallowed.

“I had a shitty week.”

“I know,” Harry said softly.

Of course he did. Louis had whined on Skype until whining turned to crying. They were setting his release dates back, they were changing his studio times, he hated his lawyer, he wanted his manager, he hated his life. He was a drama queen and he was using his only time to talk to his husband crying over problem he had had for seven years. Boo fucking hoo.

Harry had asked if he wanted to come to another concert. Of course the answer was yes. But Louis didn’t wear his fuck me jeans so he could come to the concert and then spoon with Harry on the couch in fuzzy pajamas.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Louis said bluntly.

“I know you don’t,” Harry said.

Louis sighed, and finally dropped his hands from his shirt.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Louis mumbled, “Harry – “

“Don’t call me that.”

Louis’s eyes snapped up from his loosely hanging fingertips to Harry’s face, his black eyes and his red lips.

His mouth felt so dry.

“I – “

“You had a shitty week. You don’t want to talk. So there’s one other option I know you’d want,” Harry said, lifting a brow, “So?”

Good Christ.

“You look really hot,” Louis blurted out, and Harry laughed.

“Thanks, angel,” he said, “Can I touch you?”

Louis didn’t answer, just surged forward, his hips being grabbed by Harry’s eager hands a moment later. He whined a little when Harry brought his lips forward, touching his lips to the strip of skin at Louis’s waist, nosing at it and kissing. Louis made a weak, aborted noise, shaping around one letter even though he couldn’t get the rest of the words out.

“In my lap,” Harry said, “Come on.”

Louis just nodded, closing his eyes and letting himself crawl up, bracketing Harry’s lap. He felt his husband’s lips on his chest, nearing his throat, and his big hands cradling his hips and his ass, and his eyes felt hot and threatening to spill over, but no, no, not now. Not here. He was so happy. He forced himself to relax, to ease more easily into Harry’s body.

“This is how I want you,” he murmured, “So pliant, so gentle.”

He kissed under Louis’s throat, and he groaned. The word pushed at his lips, splitting them open so he could finally speak.

“Daddy,” he whispered, and then, switching too quickly, “Harry – “

“Shh,” Harry sighed, “You had it right the first time, babydoll.”

He slipped his hands under Louis’s shirt.

“Daddy’s going to make you feel so good.”

Louis nodded, and Harry kissed him again.

“Can you take your jeans off?”

“Thought you liked your jeans.”

Harry’s hand came down on one of Louis’s cheeks, and he squeaked and nodded.

“Do what I tell you to do,” Harry said, and then for a moment opened his mouth, but Louis opened his mouth.

“I’m green,” he sighed, “Just…assume I’m green unless I scream I’m not, don’t stop.”

Harry just watched him, looking like he wanted to say no, but he sighed and nodded.

“Okay.”

Sometimes Louis was glad they had had nearly eight years of this and Harry knew his limits well enough.

Louis finally clambered off Harry’s lap, and Harry just watched him, fiddling with his belt as Louis rolled the denim off his legs. Harry’s eyes shot up with interest when they were fully off, and his undone belt clattered apart to fall to either side of his legs.

“Closer,” he said, and Louis obeyed, letting Harry reach up and touch him and cup his ass through his pants. 

They were high cut, dark green cotton pants, cheeky cut so the bottoms of his cheeks spilled out a little, lined in white lace and a little white bow under his navel.

Harry landed another sharp smack to one of Louis’s cheeks and then kissed his neck.

“These new?”

“Uh huh,” Louis smiled, “Reminded me of your eyes.”

Harry’s mouth twitched, and he puckered his lips, blowing Louis one brief, fleeting kiss as he momentarily returned to being Harry, his sweet, gentle husband, before his expression firmed again.

“On my lap again,” Harry said, and Louis nodded and clambered back up.

“You’re lucky I keep everything within reach,” Harry said as he reached for the coffee table and opened one of the shallow drawers underneath it, where there was a fresh tube of lube and a couple condoms, “I’m going to do this quickly, just so you know.”

“Good thing I fingered myself right before I came here,” Louis said flatly, and Harry just looked at him.

“That’s fucking naughty,” Harry sighed, “But you’re making my life easier so I’ll let it slide.”

“You’re an awful dom,” Louis said, and Harry barked sharply, his hand slipping down.

“Alright, sweetheart. Budge up.”

Louis just looked at him, and then lifting his hips, looking down with interest as Harry unzipped his trousers and easily pulled out his stiff cock through the zip.

“Do you ever wear pants to these things?” Louis huffed, “You have twelve year olds here.”

His voice turned to a groan when Harry gripped himself and bucked his hips up, letting his cock nestle against his cotton-covered cheeks, the line of it right at his crack.

“Daddy,” he breathed out, and felt one of Harry’s hands tighten against his waist.

“You feel Daddy’s big cock, baby?” he said, “Daddy can make you feel real nice, sweetheart. Better than anyone else ever could.”

“I know,” Louis sighed, “Please, I want it.”

“Think you could take it? Little thing like you.”

 “You know I can,” Louis gritted out. He felt fuzzy. Floaty. But it wasn’t quite enough yet, “Fuck me.”

“Say it politely.”

“ _Harry_.”

Harry slapped his cock sharply against Louis’s cheeks, and he whined.

“I know you can be a good boy,” Harry said, “Why are you being difficult with me? You think it’s cute to be a tease?”

Louis swallowed weakly. He had hit Harry’s breaking point, when Louis had hit the same button long enough Harry finally just swallowed himself up in the role, didn’t hold back.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a good boy tonight,” Louis managed.

“Oh?” Harry asked. He pressed his cock more tightly against Louis’s ass and he groaned weakly and shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly, and looked at Harry long enough that he saw a little spark of recognition in his eyes.

Sometimes when Louis was in a shitty mood and wanted to be praised and lifted up. And sometimes he just needed the opposite, needed some things beaten out of him.

Harry just swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing tightly, and then he reached back, grabbing one edge of Louis’s pants and pulled them, uncovered his hole. He rubbed his fingers over Louis’s dry hole, humming at how open it felt from Louis’s time with a toy earlier in his hotel. He drew his fingers back, getting the lube.

“Did you at least think of me while you fucked yourself?” Harry asked, and Louis hummed.

“Maybe I did,” he said, “Maybe I didn’t.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed. He reached back, slicking Louis’s hole up, and he shuddered a little at the touch and the cold gel, “And who would you have thought about if you weren’t thinking of me?”

Really, Louis didn’t have a good answer. He hadn’t thought about anyone other than his husband for eight years. No one else did it for him, because he was a sap and in love. But now wasn’t the time for that.

“Anyone else,” Louis said, “Anyone who could fuck me better.”

“I don’t fuck you well?” Harry asked, tossing the lube away. He was smirking, knew damn well Louis was lying, and he was going to get off on that.

Louis was married to a bastard.

“There’s always room for improvement,” Louis chirped, and Harry flicked his eyes to Louis’s own, ripping open a condom as he did. He kept staring at Louis as he rolled it on, and then he just grabbed Louis by the hip, gritted out “relax” from between his teeth, and then shoved the tip of his dick into Louis.

“Ah,” Louis gasped out, “Ah.”

He reached out and gripped firmly onto Louis’s shoulder.

“Come on,” Harry gritted out, “Take Daddy’s cock, baby.”

“I’m taking it,” Louis gasped out, “I’m taking it.”

“All of it. Take all of it.”

Louis groaned, and Harry pushed at him, swatting at his thigh.

“You asked for it, fucking take my cock,” Harry growled, “Fucking cock slut.”

Louis nearly cried at it, the pressure behind his eyes nearly turning into full tears.

It took a lot for Harry to call him that. They were into degradation – very into it, sometimes – but it usually took a scene Harry was very into to pull that out. He had clearly gotten Louis’s hints. Louis blinked, his eyes burning.

“Daddy,” he cried out weakly.

“Move, baby,” Harry said, “Bounce on it.”

Louis pushed his hips down on it and screamed, gripping Harry’s shoulders, digging his fingernails into his skin.

“Jesus,” Harry sighed, “Fucking look at you. You’re ruined.”

Louis blinked his eyes back open, and just looked at Harry, his heaving chest through his vest, sweat on his brow and in his hair.

“Uh,” Louis croaked out, “Green, Daddy, I’m still green.”

“Good, darling,” Harry nodded, then reached out to wipe Louis’s watering eyes before grabbing his chin.

“Who’s Daddy’s good boy?” he cooed, “Who’s Daddy’s pretty little cock whore?”

“Harry,” Louis choked out. His throat felt desert dry.

“Tell me,” Harry said again, his voice hard. He didn’t even both to correct Louis. 

“Me,” Louis babbled, “Me. I am.”

“What are you, sweetheart?” Harry said, “Cat have the kitten’s tongue?”

“I’m,” Louis swallowed, a little thrill rushing through him at finally getting to say it, “I’m a cock slut.”

“That’s right,” Harry said, growling again. He bucked his hips forward, and Louis cried out again, his toe clenching so painfully tight.

“I love your fat prick, Daddy,” he said, “Fucking split me open. Feel you inside me for days.”

“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Harry said, “One big prick wasn’t enough for you. Had to ask for something _better_ , didn’t you?”

“No,” Louis said, “I’m sorry I said it, I didn’t mean it, you’re the only one I want – “

“It doesn’t matter if you’re sorry, it matters what you said,” Harry said, “I can fuck you for hours, you know. Stay inside you until you’ve come so much you can’t anymore. Bet that still wouldn’t be enough. Bet I would come out of you and you’d get on your knees to beg for my prick again, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Louis cried out, “Yes, that’s what I want.”

Harry growled weakly, and then leaned forward and licked the length of Louis’s throat.

“Whore,” he said, and then bucked his hips up. Louis cried out and flattened his hands against Harry’s chest, rubbing his palms against Harry’s hard nipples through his vest, his muscles irresistibly hard underneath.

“Can I come tonight?” Louis said, “Can I come, Daddy, even though I was bad?”

“Yes,” Harry said, “But only because I want you to feel how filthy you are.”

He bucked his hips up again, and this time Louis started bouncing. He reached up and grabbed his shirt, stuffing some of the cotton into his mouth and sucking on the neckline to have something to muffle his embarrassingly loud cries. Harry was fucking into him hard, calling him a slut and a bad boy and Daddy’s baby but it all felt far away.

Louis was floating. He was floating in a swimming pool on a beautiful, sunny day. He was floating on a cloud. He was floating in space, in zero gravity, finally far, far away from the world.

“Daddy,” he croaked out, his mouth full of cotton. His belly felt pulled taunt, his skin so hot, his cock raging hard and leaking, still trapped in his girl’s pants.

“Come,” Harry growled, reaching up to grip Louis’s neck, his entire hand covering his throat, his thumb pushing up at his chin, “Make yourself fucking filthy.”

Louis near-screamed, and he really hoped the rest of the band had gone home. His thighs shook, and then he was coming, his pants fucking wet and sticky and ruined. He lifted his shirt up, covering his face in the wet fabric. His cheeks were burning.

Harry reached up and grabbed the shirt, pulling it down.

“I want to look at you,” Harry said.

“I’m messy,” Louis slurred out, and Harry’s eyes had never looked darker.

“Fucking love you,” he groaned, and then leaned forward and kissed Louis hard, fucking hard into him once, twice, and then yelping against Louis’s lips. Louis felt his husband’s cock twitch inside him, felt Harry’s strong body quake underneath him.

When Harry’s orgasm was over, he slumped against his chair, his arms hanging limply over the edge, and Louis just relaxed enough for Harry to slip out of him, roll the condom off, and toss it onto the carpet.

Louis would normally say that was disgusting and ask Harry to pick it up. But he was too good. He was kissing the moon.

“Hey,” he heard Harry’s voice say, and then, suddenly, Harry’s hands were on him again, and then he was back on Earth, but gravity didn’t feel heavy.

“You’re done, angel,” Harry said, “No more.”

“No more, Daddy,” Louis repeated, “No more, too sore.”

“Okay,” Harry said, “Okay, sweetheart. Hey, hey, you’re alright. Daddy’s here.”

Sometimes Harry kept calling himself that afterwards, until Louis didn’t call him that anymore.

“Hey, hey, the scene’s over, honey. You’re alright.”

He grabbed Louis’s weak body in his arms and nearly cradled him, kissing his forehead and rocking his against his chest.

“Love you so much,” he said, “Jesus, you’re incredible.”

Louis hiccupped weakly against his shoulder, fingers scrambling on Harry’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he managed, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Louis closed his eyes, pressed his cheek to Harry’s sweaty, hot shoulder. There was cum leaking out him and they were both sweating and coming of a high, and they both had hotels to go back to. But he didn’t want to move or clean up. He just wanted to stay here, wrap up the moment in a pretty bow and keep it with him as a souvenir.

“Harry,” Louis said weakly, and Harry stroked his hair.

“I’m here,” Harry said, “Louis, I’m here.”

He smoothed his fingers over the back of Louis’s neck and kissed him again.

“I love you so much,” he said, “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“I feel okay,” Louis said, “I’ll be okay.”

“I wish…” Harry trailed off, “I just want to do more for you.”

Louis wanted to laugh but didn’t have the energy. Harry did so much. He broke him when Louis wanted and held him when he wanted, sometimes Louis didn’t have anything to look forward to besides his next text from Harry, and sometimes his husband was the icing on the cake of what felt like a perfect life.

Harry was fucking perfect, and Louis would marry him a million times over. The end of every phone call could be him renewing his vows and it still wouldn’t feel like enough. Harry made him feel like a feeling more powerful than love needed to be invented for them.

Or maybe that was the weed, wine, and subspace talking.

Finally, Louis lifted his head, and he let himself kiss Harry, taste sweat and booze and the shape of a smile.

“You do enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos/comments if you'd like
> 
> My tumblr: emperorstyles.tumblr.com 
> 
> The OG post: http://emperorstyles.tumblr.com/post/172502753376/blue-eyes-black-jeans-lighters-candy-a


End file.
